


Freedom By Another Name

by swampy (HeadedMints)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst party, Gen, M/M, MT Prompto Argentum, basically rewriting all of ffxv, don't worry i'm sappy, maybe?? - Freeform, poor prompto :(, so this'll be sweet (eventually), this is... a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadedMints/pseuds/swampy
Summary: The lion had his courage, his strength, and the scarecrow's brain held wisdom far beyond his years. The lost child wore his magic well, and the three were soon ready to take back their home. ENTER: TIN MAN; tear your heart out your chest - for there is never any wizard to fix what's always been broken.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum & Prompto Argentum & Ignis Scientia & Gladiolus Amicitia, Prompto Argentum & Aranea Highwind, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 15
Kudos: 79





	1. The Right to Breathe

N - 1P01357 has never been the best of his unit. In fact, he's never really even belonged to a unit in the first place. No matter what the production numbers on his wrist and arm are, no matter how troopers of his make and model are organized, N - 1P01357 will never see combat: he's been defective since the day he was issued.

His every flaw has been beaten into him by instructor after instructor, and doctor after doctor has tried to program them out of him, trained hands moving with irreversible consequences. Every time they lay him on the operating table they have to strap him down, and even then, every time, he still squirms. Marks cover his entire body, both from his own mistakes and those of the humans around him. Every single officer has spent every day since his commission date trying to make him meet operation standards, with little results.

The yellow paper stuck to the glass of his pod destroys the last fifteen years of his operation, all the time spent on him in hopes he could one day properly serve the Empire.

N - 1P01357 has never been up to operation standard, but in the past few months his condition has only declined further. His body rejects every treatment; he's only been getting weaker and constantly needs attention; the seams of his implants and ports are always infected; and worst of all, his combat performance doesn't even measure up to the lowest marks. His unit had been made to be unstoppable, never faltering in the face of opposition, and yet here he is, sickly and small, functioning far below the others of his class. He has failed assessments with nearly every weapon put before him, save a knife, a small handful of firearms, and select lesser machinery.

And he knows what the yellow paper means.

The yellow paper was on the pod next to him not too long ago. It moves from pod to pod and designates compromised units, and they day after it is placed it moves again, leaving an empty pod behind. He knows where the removed units go - they hang their bodies in the yard for target practice. N - 1P01357 had shot at them during training without a second thought, and he's only now putting the pieces together, only know figuring the origin of the bodies in the yard.

His pod suddenly feels so much smaller, all the wires and tubes suddenly so close, suffocating him. He curls up, knees pushing against the cold metal door, hands clawing at his face. It's like all the air's been sucked out of him and out of his pod, and he gasps for breath, unable to breathe. The yellow's plastered to his eyelids, his face scrunched up and slowly growing hotter. N - 1P01357 fails to stop the little choked up noise from falling out of his mouth.

"What... what do I do?" He whispers, speaking with a voice that was never meant to be used. "I - I can't... "

He wants an out, he doesn't want this. He wants to live. More than anything, he wants to live.

N - 1P01357's hands shake as he runs them along the inside of his pod, trying to find a tool, anything that can break through the thick metal stomach all around him. He tries to open one of his wrist implements and it only ends up jamming, the casing of his arm peeled back but the blade stuck halfway. He sighs weakly, furiously shaking his head, and closes his wrist.

Something tugs hard on his neck as he turns his head, and his fingers wrap around a thick cable running up to the back of the pod. He slowly loosens the seal at the base of the tube, and it comes free with a sharp hiss. The needle clatters loudly on the floor and slices his ankle open, barely cutting down to his metal bones. He bends down to pick it up, another cable pulling free and sending a spike of pain through his side.

N - 1P01357 feels around the seam of the door until he finds the hinges, then wedges the thick needle beneath the one closer to the bottom of the pod. The sound of the pin falling doesn't have time to quiet before he's already working on the next one. The pressure inside his pod releases with a long whistle, bright light trickling in through the gap he's created.

N - 1P01357 moves faster than he ever has in training, quickly unfastening the cords and wires from his ports. Black blood drips from the metal - rimmed holes lining his torso, a sign of the infection, his defects. His entire body itches in the cold air filling the pod around him.

The gap would be too small for any other unit of his class: except he's defective, not the right size, and easily manages to slip through. A mutation meant to be fatal in battle only now works in his favor.

The catwalk is empty at this time of night. His bare, rubber soled feet slap against the metal as he stumbles towards the medical bay. He's seen an open area just by the room they always take him to for reprogramming, retracing his steps. N - 1P01357 can barely feel his legs, stopping and starting, scared of the inevitable rotation human patrol, scared of what they'll do once they find him. His pace stutters over and over as he makes his way towards the exit.

He slowly pushes open the doors and is immediately assaulted by an even colder air. two walls block off either side of him, with a short fence cordoning the area from the cliff up ahead. The world is dark, thousands of pinprick lights hanging from the deep black ceiling above him, suspended by nothing.

A human unit leans against the railing, wisps of grey smoke twisting out of her mouth. She's not equipped with Imperial standard armor. Languidly, more so than any unit he's seen before, she turns and rests her elbows back against the fence. N - 1P01357 freezes - exactly as his training advises him not to.

Her eyes go wide at the sight of him, and the smoke stops flowing as he darts towards her. Her hand goes to her waist, drawing a pistol, and the alarm blares to life behind him. The sound fills his ears, swollen static in his head.

"You - you're not supposed to be outside your pod," He moves ever closer, the soft white ground compacting beneath his weight. She moves back and realizes she can't go any further, brandishing her firearm, "Return to it immediately, or -"

N - 1P01357 doesn't think. He doesn't even quite realize what he's doing until his wrist blade is successfully armed and mounted, running straight through her throat. He recoils, horrified, the implement slotting cleanly back into his casing. Her body limply falls back over the railing, tumbling off the cliff and down to the vast, empty white far, far below.

The alarm continues, voices raising with up, all distant but so, so close. The ground is cold. He toes forward and feels warm spot where the unit once was, the white now a diseased red beneath his foot. He whips around to see other units filing out of the only door back into the facility. His own unit looms imposingly tall behind them, armored and battle ready, broad and insurmountable in every possible way.

He is everything they are not - he's defective, compromised, he reminds himself. 

The decision is simple: he's already come this far. N - 1P01357 hurls himself over the fence, following the rocky cliff face into the abyss as the human units angrily cry out behind him.


	2. Move Along, Move Ahead

The ground is soft at first, but becomes unyeildingly hard after a while. The white is everywhere around him, covering the world in a blank nothing, with nothing in it.

N - 1P01357 lays in the white for a long time, letting it cover him as it falls from the dark above him. The fall damaged his lower limb replacements, but they should still be functional. He slowly rights himself, testing his legs. He needs to move. He won't last long against his unit without any real weapons, let alone at all, with the condition he's in.

The human unit's body lies in a crumpled heap not far from him, surrounded by a great, uneven splatter of red.

He plucks her gun off the ground a few paces away from her body, dusting it off and idly thumbing the safety. He slowly inches towards her, waiting for her to stand up, to capture him and help to return him to the facility. When she doesn't move, he comes ever closer. The only thing N - 1P01357 can really do for her is relieve her of the knife strapped to her thigh. He takes both holsters - for the firearm and the knife - with him. If she's not operational, she won't need them. Not as much as he does, anyways.

"I'm sorry," He whispers, sad little noises escaping him again. N - 1P01357 rubs at his face and feels the freezing air biting at his bare head. "I - I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

The human unit, non - operational, says nothing. N - 1P01357 stares on, fumbling with his hands. His voice is too quiet, and even he can't hear it over the wind.

After a long bout of mumbling, he begins his stumble away from the cliff. The rest of his unit can easily handle such a fall and will soon follow his lead. If they catch him out here, where visibility is poor and they have the clear advantage, there's no way he'll make it. He needs to find cover.

Out in the white, a huge, brown silhouette kicks, moving erratically. Thin grey shapes whirl around it, circling, waiting for an opening. N - 1P01357 runs as fast as he can, clicking the safety off and training his weapon on the grey creature closest to him. His legs protest as his auto repair sluggishly kicks in.

At the sound of a gunshot, most of the grey things scatter from the brown mass, now focused on him. The one he'd shot drops to the ground in a ruddy crimson puddle, neutralized. He reaches for his knife, shaky hands struggling with the holster, as another one of the things lunges at him. N - 1P01357 raises his arm to protect his face, and the blade comes out of his wrist just as a strong jaw clamps around it. The creature howls, and red drips down his arm, greasing the seams of his casing. The rest of the grey things retreat from their lost cause.

He holsters his gun. The brown shape remains, letting out a little grunt as it turns towards him, revealing a grey, wrinkled face with a long snout. He lingers, watching it plod along, slowly coming towards him. It stops just a little bit in front of him and snuffles, violently shaking its hairy body. It finishes and still remains.

N - 1P01357's hand hovers over its side, quivering. He doesn't want to hurt it, doesn't want his wrist to open and run it through. His breath comes shaky, clouding in front of him, the cold air sharp in his throat. Slowly, he gently sets his hand on its side, implements still stored.

It's so, so soft.

The thick hair sinks just a little under the pressure of his hand, and it's the softest thing he's ever felt, softer than the white beneath his feet. It's so warm even in the cold. N - 1P01357 leans against the longnose, its hair itching the infected seams of his implants and tickling his face. It waits, letting him soak in the feel of its tangled fur. He lets out a high noise and presses himself against it a little further.

The longnose starts moving, limping on a damaged hind leg, and he follows. It's headed away from the facility. It's a source of cover. He doesn't want to miss the feeling of it's hair, and it needs protection - things they can provide for each other. He stumbles alongside it, huddled against it to avoid the cold. He ruffles the hair near its head. It snorts, slowing to match his pace.

It leads him to a cave, sheltered from the falling white and the wind and the cold. A huge swathe of frozen water faces the mouth of the cavern. His unit is meant to function best in these adverse conditions, yet N - 1P01357 finds himself welcoming a place to hide from them. His defects could end up leaving him dysfunctional in this weather.

The longnose curls up near the very back of the cave, where a pale blue glow seeps out from between the rocks and dances off the walls. N - 1P01357 suddenly feels very, very weak. He sets himself down against the longnose, huddled between its front and back legs, one hand on his pistol and the other on its side.

He wastes the time away staring out of the cave mouth, and the outside slowly grows brighter and brighter. He stands. The longnose doesn't stir.

"Be right back," He manages as he walks out towards the white.

He sets himself on the cold ground and looks up at the roof of the outside. The ceiling above him is full of color, and the small lights have begun to go out. The roof stretches over the ice, dappled orange and purple and yellow and white, streaks of red drawn across the changes in tone. It's wonderful, beyond wonderful, he thinks, and he can't stop himself from shaking.

N - 1P01357 doesn't know how long he sits there until a giant light is lit far away, slowly drawn higher by an unseen cable. He feels its heat immediately, feels it soaking him to the bone. His eyes boil, everything smudging and going blurry. His skin burns, letting off a thick black smoke. He scrambles towards the cave, clawing at his face, trying to clean his eyes of the light and the smoke.

He cowers near the cave entrance. The longnose trots past him, just about to leave.

"Don't," He grabs fistfuls of its hair, losing his grip. It continues on its course, ignoring his frantic pleading, "Please, d - don't, it's not -"

He reaches out after it, feels his implants quickly growing hotter, then pulls back in. The longnose rounds the corner past the patch of ice and disappears into the white. N - 1P01357 is alone again. He wraps his arms around himself and ambles back to the blue light at the back of the cave.

He's not sure how long he's sat there, back pressed hard against the rough, rock wall, when there's an unfamiliar clicking near the entrance.

His eyes shoot open wide. His core hammers in his chest, quietly humming as it's pushed near past capacity. They've found him, he's going to be corrected and reprogrammed, or dismantled and hung in the yard to be filled with bullets and knives, they -

"Why're you all alone out here, kid?" A human unit's voice rings out, sharp and clear. Her body blocks some of the pale outside light from streaming in, cutting a firm silhouette into the stone. "And... naked?"

Her uniform is black, red around her neck and brown at the edges. Grey hair frames her face on either side, messily pulled back behind her head. She starts coming closer. He presses himself tighter against the wall.

"Hey, you alright?" She asks. There's nowhere for him to go. Each step she takes brings her closer, and there's no escape.

She can't see him from here, with the jagged ceiling casting shadows deep into the cave. She must not know what he is. She must not realize how tall he is, despite being the smallest of his unit; she must not see his ports, or the long cable embedded in his spine.

She soon gets close enough to see, however, and she sees the swollen lines where his implants end and he begins, his arms and legs just a shade off from his actual body. N - 1P01357 watches her eyes go wide, just like the human unit from the night before, suprise frozen on her face as the white blanketed her empty body.

"You're just a kid," She whispers. Her mouth moves like she's going to say something more, but only air comes out. N - 1P01357 brings his knees to his chest.

"Are you," His lips crack, and the words are hoarse and quiet. He spirals into a coughing fit, lasting a while before he can use his voice again. "Are you going to take me back?"

"What?" Her voice is strong, though, and louder than before. She takes another step and he pulls on his legs a little tighter. "No, no, you need help. Do you need anything - anything at all?"

"I -" And he wants to tell her yes, yes he does, but the marks near his spinal implants scream no, no - his units are not allowed to request anything of human units.

But his units are not allowed to leave their pods, either. They're not allowed to speak, or escape, or steal weapons from human units. They are not allowed to touch longnose hair, or hide in caves, or look at the colors across the outside ceiling. There is far too many restricted actions that he's taken in so little time.

"Alright, look." She sighs. He's been thinking too long - a correction must be in order. His units are not allowed to withhold any form of response, either. "Just - just stay here. I'll be right back with, well - y'know, something."

N - 1P01357 stays there, pressed against the wall, following his orders. The bright glow of the outside begins to slowly fade, the light lowering. The colors return, yellow and red and rich purple painting the mouth of the cave.

Despite his orders, N - 1P01357 crawls outside.

  
The white is still cold. It's no longer falling, making its home on the ground. The colors are vibrant from over the ice, his skin gently smoking in the faint light, heat waning. It's as beautiful as it was earlier, a splash of hues smattering the unusually blue, dark ceiling. He's never seen anything change colors so often, or lights that hang from nothing. Pinks and teals spread up through the lights, misty and smoky patterns. The white shifts beneath his quivering weight.

"What're you doing?"

N - 1P01357 immediately starts scrambling back to the cave. He's disobeyed an order, and she's going to return him so he can get the correction he deserves - or have him deactivated, his defects too great to repair. This is part of why he was deemed defective in the first place: disobeying orders.

"I'm - I wanted," His voice fails him, dying out. His units are not allowed to want anything. "The white -"

"You wanted to sit in the snow?" She shifts a brown bundle under her arm, sitting down next to him. N - 1P01357 nods as she settles on the ground.

He has a word for the white now.

"That's... alright. You can do that, it's fine." She follows his gaze over the ice, to the colors. Her eyes are a dull green, but they shine as she looks at him. She notices him staring up, "You like the sky, too, huh?"

"Yes." He has a word for the ceiling now, too. "I - I like... yes. I like it, all of the colors."

She sits with him there until the sky turns dark blue, another smaller, paler light rising up. He doesn't burn. The pinprick lights from the night before accompany it, tiny and far, far away. Wind blows some of the snow off the ground and onto the ice.

The human unit stands, and he's afraid he's done something wrong again.

"C'mon, Shortcake. Got some stuff for you," She says, going back to the cave. "Don't want it to get wet."

All he's done is disobey orders, and this unit has offered him things, and let him sit outside when she told him to stay still, and given things names and let him do what he wants. But he follows her like he's told, legs still aching. The blue light deep within plays across the mouth of the cave.

She's set out several pieces of a uniform out on the stone. Why is this set here? She already has her own.

"You can take them." Her voice stirs him out of his thoughts. His head shoots up to face her, their eyes meeting. "They're for you. Think you're a little too tall for most of it, though, except maybe the jacket."

N - 1P01357 takes the pants first, pulling the grey waistband over the switch at his hip, careful not to trip it. If his legs come detached now, he'll be stuck here until he deactivates. It would really be better if they just stayed attached.

The yellow shirt leaves awkward shapes over his ports, and strange wrinkles near the seams of his implants. The sleeves reach down to just above his wrists, leaving enough space for his implements to come out without damaging the fabric. The heat it brings is a gentle, comfortable warmth, unlike the outside light, and the inside is soft against his skin.

The jacket she mentioned remedies the strange shapes underneath his clothes, covering them with a thick, puffy black. A little yellow creature is patterned on the left of the chest, it's head jagged, face decorated with wide blue eyes and a pointed orange snout. Uneven markings beneath the yellow thing read W - I - Z. He spends what feels like ages staring at it.

"You like it? All Lucian made." He doesn't understand, but nods anyway. He goes back to staring at the beast on his chest. "Some of the stuff that actually managed to make it through customs. Oh, and there're boots over there for you, too."

The soles of his feet stick to the bottoms of the boots. The tops of them fail to reach the bottom of his pants, leaving a space of skin exposed to the cold. He feels warmer than he's ever felt before, all over his entire body. His armor was never this comfortable.

It takes N - 1P01357 a moment to realize that he's shaking, panting and gasping. His units are supposed to be completely silent, not even their breathing heard. He falls to his knees and covers his face, hitting heavy on the stones.

"Hey, what - what's wrong?" The human unit is at his back in an instant, hand at his spinal implant. The jacket is pressed flat against it and around it, pronouncing the long shape running down him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry - I just, just - I," He can't stop the water falling from his eyes, clawing at his face, quivering on the ground. He can barely hear his own voice at the quietest it's been, rough against his throat. "I like... these, I really, really like this. I can't - you -"

"Hey, hey, it's alright." Her hand moves to the right of his spine, rubbing tight circles on the edge of his limb implant. "Don't apologize. You haven't done anything wrong."

You haven't done anything wrong.

The knowledge sends him into another strangled, bawling fit, his face hot, his body tired. It feels as though his chest is going to burst, tightening, choking him. The corners of his lips turn up but he can't stop crying. He stops trying to wipe his face, letting the water flow freely.

After a while, there's nothing left in him. The human unit sighs, crossing her legs on the cave floor. The blue light flickers, casting shadows along the uneven rocky walls. Half of her face is swallowed by the dark.

"Well, now that we're acquainted," She huffs, leaning back on her hands. "Name's Aranea. What's yours?"

"N - one P zero one," He coughs, choking on his own voice as he sits up. Aranea's eyes harden, and she shifts her weight forward. "N - one P zero one, uh, three five seven, production model zero five eight, no - zero five nine -"

"Stop, stop - just," She puts up an open hand and begins to stand, and the numbers catch in his throat. He runs through the last few minutes, trying to figure out what he did wrong. She runs a hand through her hair. "Shiva's tits, kid."

"I'm sorry. I didn't -" It's an automatic response. There's something tight in his throat, blocking his voice, and it's already so, so quiet. "Please, I'm sorry. I thought - you said..."

She walks over to where his pistol is discarded, examining the weapon and locking the safety before tossing it into his corner of the cave. It skids across the stone and stops just in front of his feet.

"Is Prompto okay?" Aranea sways her weight to one leg, hand on her hip. She doesn't yell, or grab him, or force him anywhere. "Like the gun. Sound normal enough - well, sounds Lucian, I guess. Is that alright?"

"Yes." A new designation is nothing compared to the corrections he's undergone before. N - 1P01357 traces over a thick, long scar around his core through his shirt. He shivers.

"So, Prompto." She lets the word fall out of her mouth, testing it. Something tugs the corners of her mouth up, just barely, and she kneels down and starts digging through her bundle. "You hungry? I should have something edible, at least."

"I don't," He takes a deep breath, then a deeper one. His throat opens up, and his core stops hammering in his ears. "Know, I don't think... no?"

"You don't..." She stops rummaging and trains her green eyes on him. She mutters to herself a moment, then speaks up, "What did they call it? Maybe... nutrition, sustenance, something like that?"

Then he understands. All human units know how to administer nutrients. He pulls his shirt up, leaning back so the port in his stomach is visible: it's a small metal ring just above his waist, just above his lower limb inplants. The skin around it is red, infected. It reminds him that he doesn't belong here, but also that he doesn't belong in the facility, either.

Aranea stares. N - 1P01357 grips the fabric tighter to keep his hands from shaking as she comes closer. Her finger draws around the outside of it, warm against cold steel, and he shudders at the touch. She sits back, knees on the ground and her hands on her thighs.

"Alright, we're getting nowhere like this. I'm," She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and brushing pale silver locks away from her face as she exhales. He lets his shirt fall. "I'll warm up some soup. You - you just drink that. Think you can handle that?"

He nods. Water and other liquids are administered orally. The Empire has yet to find a more efficient way to distribute it through a unit's body, though they'd tried a few of their theories on him before. They only contributed to his existing defects.

So. He's not sure what soup is, but he knows how to drink.

Aranea brings her bag over to the glowing blue stones and withdraws several sticks, laying them across the center of the light. In the next moment, they're burning, flames sharing space with the glow already there. She places two containers near the fire and closes her pack. N - 1P01357 watches in silence.

Aranea delivers one of the containers into his waiting hands, gentle heat spreading from the tips of his fingers up into his arms. It's filled with a murky, green - brown fluid, filled with strange, mismatched pieces. He looks from it to Aranea, studying her as she spoons some of the hot muddy liquid into her mouth.

"Is it too hot?" Her eyes catch his and meet them. She sets her spoon into the canister and gently says, "You can wait if you have to."

"No, it's - it's your hair." He manages. His units are not allowed to have hair. One of his hands wanders to the back of his neck, fingers feeling where his spinal implant attaches to the base of his head. "I - it's nice. I like it."

"Of course you would," She chuckles, returning to her soup. She stirs it around a little, "You don't have any."

"Right. I'll," N - 1P01357 lifts his container with both hands. He slowly brings it towards his mouth, and a warm feeling begins to settle in his stomach. His mouth is greasy as he takes another sip, "The soup."

He drinks until he can't drink any more, setting his half empty canister near the fire. Aranea collects both their containers and stows them away in her bag, then lies down and rests her head on it. N - 1P01357 imitates her pose, curled up on his side watching the wood crackle. His jacket rustles as he adjusts himself.

As the last of the flames die away, his eyes slowly close against the gentle, warm glow.


	3. Der Kommissar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a massive amount of reworking from my original idea. It's also a lot longer than the last ones. I hope you enjoy :]

"Alright, sun's up." N - 1P01357 wakes up to Aranea gently nudging him with her boot. He slowly sits up and rubs his eyes, comfortably warm despite the fact that the fire is gone. "Be safest if we get a move on now."

"Sun..?" He lowers his hand and looks out the mouth of the cave and sees the bright light streaming in. He shoots a nervous look towards Aranea as she packs up, "Are we... we're going out?"

"Yeah. Gonna take a while to get to the nearest station," She slings her bag over her shoulder and offers him a hand up. He hesitates, then takes it, letting her drag him up. "And we need to be on a train to Altissia before nightfall."

"But, I can't -" N - 1P01357 stays stuck where he stands as Aranea heads towards the light. She turns back towards him. "It's not dark. I - if I go out, I'll burn."

"...Right, you're a..." She stops short, face twisting up. She puts her hands on her hips, looking around the cave floor, muttering to herself. N - 1P01357 watches and waits for her to speak, fingers knit together in front of him.

Aranea's face lights up. She peels the red cloth from her neck and starts to wrap it around his. He doesn't move. He stares at her, confused, hands hovering closer and closer to his throat.

"Keep it over your face," She says, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. Aranea steps back and looks him over, nodding. "We keep you covered, you don't burn. But..."

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, resting a hand on his shoulder. Aranea doesn't move for a long time, and he doesn't either. His breath comes loudly in and out, and he's scared - if she doesn't know what to do or say, how could he?

"But if this doesn't work, we find something else," Her voice doesn't waver this time. Her eyes are filled with a steely determination as she takes her hand off of him. "Because I am gettting you on that train and I am getting you on a boat to Caem. I am not leaving you here. Understand?"

"Ye - yes," He mumbles, because he can't do anything but agree. He doesn't want to be left here: and it's not like he could refuse an order with such force behind it, either. He does as he's told and covers his face, "Understood."

Aranea's eyes soften. "We'll be fine. You're not going back."

N - 1P01357 feels the corners of his mouth turning up beneath the cloth hung over his nose. He straightens up, fixing the scarf and tucking it into his hood. Aranea gives him another once over and nods, smiling.

"Alright, we're good to go. C'mon," She turns again and heads outside, leaving N - 1P01357 stuck where he stands. He slowly follows after her, shoes quietly tapping on stone. He lingers near the mouth of the cave, the toes of his boots barely out in the light. He's terrified.

He takes a deep, shaky breath, and slowly, very slowly, he steps outside.

The sun warms him deep to his bones, but there is no smoke and he doesn't burn. He leans his head back and the sky is bright, blue and white and glowing. He stands there and stares, cold wind balancing his temperature. Aranea walks past him.

Machinery roars to life beside him: he jumps, looking towards the sound and reaching for his pistol. Aranea gives him a worried look as she straps her bag to her snowmobile.

"You okay?" He nods, relaxing. Aranea settles onto the snowmobile and pats the seat behind her, "Hop on. Don't worry, I'll take it easy."

N - 1P01357 takes his seat and realizes two things - one, that there's very little seat here at all; and two, that Aranea is very clearly shorter than him. He wraps his arms loosely around her waist and scoots closer against her, hoping he doesn't fall off. Aranea sighs and shakes her head. Her long hair brushes against his scarf.

"Just sit tight, Shortcake. We'll be at the station before you know it."

N - 1P01357 feels the engine flare up beneath him, and in the next moment they're streaking across the snow. He's glad he held on. The ground is uneven and the snowmobile jostles beneath them, every bump making him think he's going to fly off the back of it. Aranea's driving doesn't do much to help, either.

He sits there in silence and listens to the engine hum, idly watching the landscape go by. A longnose or two lazily ambles far off across the snow. N - 1P01357 tries not to think too hard about everything that could go wrong. He's good at thinking - too good, so good he just can't stop himself. Good enough that he'd actually decide to escape.

"Aranea?" He shouts over the rumble of the engine, trying to distract himself. She turns her head towards him. "What's Altissia?"

"It's, uh," She yells back, pausing a moment before continuing, "It's a city by the ocean. The whole place is surrounded by water, and everything's white."

"Oh." His throat is starting to hurt. The snow kicks up in heavy streams on either side of them, blazing a path forward. The wind blows against him, not fully blocked by Aranea's body. "Like here?"

"No, it's not as cold. There's no snow, either." She says, turning back to the way ahead. They've reached a hill and are slowly making their way up it. N - 1P01357 holds onto her a little tighter, and she chuckles, "Relax, we'll be fine! Shouldn't be too long now."

As they crest the hill and run steady across now flat ground, N - 1P01357 sees a huge figure moving slowly against the white backdrop of the environment. 

"Aranea..." He tugs on her as he reaches for his pistol, thumb on the safety. He gestures it towards the shape in the snow, now quickly coming closer. "Wh - what is that?!"

"Kaiser," She mutters beneath her breath, revving the engine. "Hold on!"

The Kaiser rises up on its back legs, roaring as it cranes back its enormous head crowned with horns. Its wings spread wide open and blot out the light of the sun as it lowers itself to the ground. N - 1P01357 lets off a few shots as it lumbers towards them, to no avail. It's easily catching up.

Aranea looks back and scowls. She stands up on the seat and casts out her hand. The snowmobile, miraculously, continues forward without halting.

"You drive." She growls, and a spear materializes in her hand. The red glow of magitek stains the darkening sky as she leaps into the air. N - 1P01357 lurches forward and grabs the handles of the snowmobile, hastily holstering his gun.

He can hear Aranea shouting behind him, hear the sound of the Kaiser's howling voice, hear its panting breath and heavy footsteps. He looks over his shoulder to see Aranea driving her spear into its skull, and turns back just in time to avoid colliding with a large rock.

Aranea cries out. N - 1P01357 stops in his tracks and sees her pinned beneath the Kaiser's claws, its open, tooth filled mouth slowly descending. He can't move, frozen. He thinks too much, like he always does. He can never get out of his own head.

N - 1P01357 pulls his knife from the holster on his thigh and sharply turns the snowmobile around.

The Kaiser raises its head as he draws nearer, pulling back its lips with a hiss. He blocks out all thoughts of retreat and drives straight between its legs, blade outstretched. He leaves a long cut along its ankle, adding to the already reddening snow.

The Kaiser reels back and howls in pain, lifting its paw. N - 1P01357 skids to a stop beside Aranea and waits for her to stand, anxiously watching the Kaiser as it lies motionless, but alive, in the snow. As she stands, he mimics her, patting the seat behind him.

"Hop on," He says, imitating her tone, and she smiles and shakes her head as she gets on behind him. Her arms wrap around his stomach, just above his nutrient port. They're strong.

The Kaiser doesn't pursue them.

The day sluggishly begins to turn to night. And after a long, long time, Aranea lets out a breath she's been holding for far too long. He looks back at her, not worried about hitting anything.

"Owe you one, Prompto." She breathes. Then, she smiles again. "You're a good kid."

"Hmmm," He hums, not sure how to respond. His instructors never remarked positively on his marks: then again, they never had any reason to.

"Station should be just up ahead." Aranea points from behind him, and he begins to see the outline of an outpost, well lit and fenced in. He recalls the perimeter of the compound's base level, similar in defense. N - 1P01357 shudders at the memory and the ones brought with it.

Aranea must be able to tell. She claps a hand on his shoulder as he brings the snowmobile to a stop a ways away from the gate.

"I'll do the talking." She says as he pulls the scarf down from his face. "Don't worry. You'll be fine."

"Ah, Miss Highwind!" The guard says, much more cheerful than any patrol officer N - 1P01357's been forced to deal with. Her rifle rests loosely in her hands. "Back already?"

"No rest for the wicked. Something came up." Aranea casually gestures towards N - 1P01357. The guard and her seem to reach some sort of unspoken understanding. "Need to catch the first train to Altissia."

"Friend of yours?" She inquires. He avoids her gaze, playing with the end of his jacket sleeve. "Shy one, isn't he?"

"Been a rough night." Aranea supplies.

N - 1P01357 sighs, deflating a little. Only now does he realize how tired he is. This has been his most eventful day since before they deemed him unfit for combat.

"Looks like it. Well, you head on through. Train should be coming any minute," The guard unlocks the padlock and holds the door open for them. N - 1P01357 trails behind Aranea, hesitant. From the corner of his eye, the guard smiles at him. "You two stay safe, now."

"Easy enough." Aranea sighs. N - 1P01357 follows her feet, eyes fixed on the ground. There are so many human units all around him, so many noises. He'd rather keep his head down.

When Aranea comes to a stop near the edge of the platform, he stops beside her.

"We made it?" He whispers, turning to her. The chatter of the station almost swallows his voice.

"Yeah," She says, gently patting him on the back. "Won't be long until you're home free, kid."

He pauses. He thinks. "Where's Caem? Is it like Altissia?"

"No, no, it's," Aranea smiles, running a hand through her hair. N - 1P01357 touches his neck, idly rubbing the back of his head. "It's this tiny little settlement at a Lucian peninsula. Three, four people there, tops. We'll drop you off there and go our separate ways."

N - 1P01357 doesn't want to think of what happens after they separate. He doesn't want to think of where he'll have to go afterwards, or what'll happen when he finds another human unit, because he inevitably will. He wishes he didn't think so much.

"What," He starts, trying to push all the thoughts he doesn't want to think away, "What's Lucis like?"

"Warmer, brighter. Less daemons, no snow." She crosses her arms and leans her weight back on one foot. N - 1P01357 tries to imagine a world that isn't completely white and fails to fully visualize it. Aranea looks at him, then back at the tracks. "Sorry, haven't been there often. Work keeps me over here."

"It's okay." He knits his fingers together in front of him. Aranea doesn't say anything.

He hears the train before he sees it. It comes lumbering into the station, long metal body grumbling as it slowly grinds to a halt. A door swings open, a man steps out: N - 1P01357 steps back from the edge of the platform.

"Hey, it's alright." Aranea takes his hand and leads him inside, past the unit at the door, "Watch your step."

He follows behind her until she eases him into a booth seat, sitting down across from him. He looks to his left and sees the station still waiting beyond the glass, some people waving, some heading onto the train. N - 1P01357 ducks his head as a group of them passes by in the aisle.

"You hungry?" She asks. He mentally assesses his condition and shakes his head. "Alright. You just tell me if you need anything."

He nods, staring at his hands. The train slowly rumbles to life beneath them, and he slowly raises his head. He looks back through the glass and sees peaks and valleys, snow capped mountains and the sky glowing dark and bright, teal streaks cutting through the purple night sky. He looks down and sees a face in the corner of the glass, with bright red eyes and black pupils, staring straight at him.

"Never seen yourself before?" N - 1P01357 looks at her, confused, then returns his gaze to the glass. The face copies him. She continues, "That's you. That's what you look like."

The red eyes go wide with understanding.

Aranea huffs, shaking her head with a smile. N - 1P01357 watches his reflection as his mouth curls into a grin, not trying to fight it. The mountains roll on beside them.

The train rattles on its tracks.


	4. Pray The Lord

When the train finally comes to a stop, N - 1P01357 is the first one to stand. He realizes his mistake when he notices everyone else is still sitting and quickly moves to correct it, dropping back into his seat. He hopes no one's noticed him; luckily, the other units don't even look in his direction. Aranea gently sets her hand on his wrist. 

"We're almost there." She squeezes his arm and stands. He follows close after as she walks into the aisle. "Just a little bit more to go."

N - 1P01357 follows her feet as the get off the train, head tucked against his chest. He watches his feet as they go down the steps and onto the cobble station platform, their boots clicking on the stone. He pulls the scarf over his face again, afraid to lift his head. The sun spreads gentle and warm around them, licking at his back. The air is a pale yellow - red, pale but slowly growing brighter.

He's not sure how long it's been when Aranea stops in front of him. The sun is beating hot against his back, the wind tugging on his jacket.

"You okay back there?" N - 1P01357 ducks his head away and nods, adjusting his scarf. She suddenly turns around entirely, kneeling down in front of him. Her worried face comes into view, "You sure you're alright?"

"I - I'm scared," He manages, voice barely a whisper. "Of the sun, and of all the, the humans. I don't want to burn. I don't want to go back."

"Hey, it's okay. You're gonna be okay, Prompto," She puts a hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing just above his ear. "You wanna wait until the sun's not out anymore before we get to Altissia? There should be less people by then."

He hesitates, then nods.

"Alright." Aranea stands, holding her hand out for him to take. He slowly, awkwardly meets her. "There's a smaller town up ahead. We can wait until nightfall there."

The town - Otiosus, Aranea called it - is comprised of only a handful small brick buildings, with a long dry fountain in a quiet market square at the center of it. The few units on the streets make casual conversation with Aranea as they pass, voices light and happy. The sounds of soft words, along with those from the gentle world around him, slowly begin to put him at ease. His tense shoulders instinctively relax.

"Back so soon, Miss Highwind?" A voice says. Aranea stops, but Prompto keeps clutching to her hand. "Oh! And who's this?"

"A friend. Listen, we've been out since yesterday morning," She sighs, shifting her weight. "You still have that spare room?"

"Of course." N - 1P01357 hears the owner of the voice get to their feet. Aranea starts moving again, and he shuffles after her. "Right this way."

The room given to them has a single small bed in one corner and a desk and a stool in the other. Dust fills the air, visible in the light drifting through the window. The wooden floor creaks with their presence and their weight. Aranea guides him over to the bed and sets him down on it, then turns towards the door.

"Thanks, Vegrandis." She says. The unit who led them there, now standing in the doorway, bows their head.

"Don't mention it." As they straighten, N - 1P01357 notices the little smile on their face. They nod their head to one side before leaving the room entirely, "Washroom's just down the hall."

They leave the room and leave it silent. Aranea stands in the middle of the room and sighs, running a hand through her hair. N - 1P01357 pulls the scarf from his face and the hood off his head.

"Everyone knows you," He says, his voice coming out softer than he'd meant it to, too soft.

Aranea turns towards him, "Hm?"

"All those units, they knew you. A - and the one at the station."

"Oh. Well, work takes me pretty much everywhere," She sits down on the bed next to him, upsetting the quilt beneath them. He pulls his legs and arms a little closer to himself. "I try to help wherever I can."

"Like you helped me?"

Her face twists and she looks away, covering her mouth with her hand. When she turns back to him her eyes have softened again, "Yeah. Yeah, like I'm helping you."

"That's nice." His eyes wander, tracing the edge between the floor and the wall. He sees a crack in the plaster and follows it up towards the ceiling. The dust shifts and falls to the ground.

"Well," Aranea stands, dusting her hands against her lap. "You oughta get some rest, kid. I'll wake you up when it's time to go."

"Right." He curls up on his side and rests his head on the bed. The soft material gives beneath the weight of his head, sinking around him. Aranea pulls the curtains over the window and sets herself on the stool by the desk, crossing her legs.

She smiles at him from across the room, "Sleep tight."

N - 1P01357 opens his eyes to a much dimmer room, walls painted with gentle orange and yellow light. Aranea's standing over him, a hand on his shoulder. He slowly sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Hey, sun's setting." She tells him, gathering up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. N - 1P01357 stands on sleep heavy implants, rolling his shoulders forward and stretching his back. "If we head out now, we should make it to Altissia by sundown."

"Understood," He fixes his hood, brushing his hand along the back of his head. Stubble itches his palm, his hair finally beginning to grow. 

He tries to imagine what it will look like but, since he only has Aranea for comparison, he fails to really visualize it. The image he has in his head is blurry, smudged grey with bright red eyes. He wonders what he actually looks like. He wonders how Aranea sees him, how every other unit sees him.

"Hey, you still with me?" He's been thinking for too long again; it seems like that's the only thing he's good at.

"Ye - yeah. I'm ready," N - 1P01357 fiddles with his holster, adjusting it beneath his jacket. The leather unforgivingly chafes against him through his shirt. He repeats, steadier this time, "I'm ready."

"Alright." He follows her out of the room and into the cobble street, and the sun softly shines over the very bottom of the sky. "There's a dock just down the road. Should be a boat there that'll take us to Altissia."

"And then to Caem," He says, sighing. It's all happening so fast, and now that he's found someone who wants him he doesn't want to let go. Something sinks deep into the pit of his stomach and curls up around his core.

Aranea must notice his hesitation. 

"Hey, we don't have to leave right away," She smiles, rolling her shoulder and shifting the weight of her bag. "Unless you want to?"

"No, no, I," He takes a deep breath, trying to contain himself. He feels like he's spilling over, bubbling against the cusp of his own body, about to overflow. "I wanna stay, just - just a little while."

"Then we'll stay." She gestures for him to come beside her. "C'mon."

"Right," He breathes, practically shaking with excitement. He walks next to Aranea down to the dock, his dragging, clumsy feet scuffing up tiny yellow clouds of sand.

There are two boats down at the water's edge, one smaller than the other. A single unit is tending to the smaller boat as Aranea leads N - 1P01357 down the path. He waves as they approach, setting down his ropes. He waits in his boat until Aranea reaches the end of the dock and stands before him.

"Aranea," He says, tipping his hat.

"Litus. You still owe me a favor for those hobgoblins," Litus sighs and looks away, pulling the brim of his hat down. Aranea shifts her weight and rests a hand on her hip, smiling. "Relax, I don't want any gil. Just need you to take me and the kid to Altissia."

He looks up. "No gil?"

"Not a one."

"Well, then, let's get you two to the capitol!" Litus adjusts his cap as a smile breaks out on his face. He motions towards the boat before returning to his ropes, "Climb aboard."

Aranea helps ease N - 1P01357 into the boat, which rocks unsteadily with the added weight. N - 1P01357 pulls away from the sides, huddled close to the center, kness up to his chest. Litus kicks the boat away from the dock and the engine stutters to life. The water sprays out on either side of them in small, fast waves.

"First time on the water?" Litus asks. N - 1P01357 nods. "I remember bein' scared, too, when I was just a little younger'n you."

"You were?" He slowly lets his feet touch the floor of the boat. Nothing happens.

"Course. Hard not to be, at first." N - 1P01357 unfolds, resting his hands on his seat beside him. The boat stays a steady course. The water rises and falls. "Best to just face it head on n'get on a ship out to sea."

"You'll get your sea legs soon enough, Prompto." Aranea gently claps a hand on his shoulder. He smiles up at her, then looks out to the horizon.

The water seems to stretch on forever. The endless blue expanse is interrupted only by distant land, chunks of earth being battered by the waves. The boat churns the water - a few small shapes dart into the air and return to the sea - and N - 1P01357 stares and breathes deep and takes in the taste of the air, lost in the world around him.

"Oi, we're here." Litus toes the end of his boot, the boat slowing. N - 1P01357 jolts back to attention. "Up and at 'em."

Altissia really is all white, filled with stairs and arches and graceful, swooping design. Aranea helps him, on shaking legs, out of the boat, and beneath his feet it is nothing like snow. The sky is dark but there are less lights, less colors. The air is cool, but not cold. A unit or two wanders each pathway, moving without any real purpose. He takes a deep breath and tries to take it all in.

"It's not every day you visit the captiol," Aranea says, waving as Litus slowly steers his boat away from the dock. "I say we see the sights before we leave."

"Yeah - show," N - 1P01357 breathes, nerves seeping out of him. Aranea puts her hand out and he takes it without hesitation. "Show me around."

Altissia is a massive structure, though not as big as his compound. Aranea leads him past countless buildings, waiting each time he pauses to look through windows or stare at carts, everything dressed in bright colors. The units tending each shop look at him gently, smiling, no anger or fear in their faces.

He's haunted a moment by the face of the unit on patrol at the compound, his blade in her neck; he shakes his head and pushes the image away.

"Ah -" N - 1P01357 realizes the area around him, immediately focusing on the large stone sculpture nearest to him. "What's this statue... of?"

"Supposed to be of the goddess of the sea, Leviathan," Aranea says, looking up at it. "Locals say she appears in many different forms. This is just one of them."

"Does it have a purpose?"

"Well, the goddess - Altissia asks for her blessing every coming year. But the fountain," She lets go of his hand and walks to the base of the statue, reaching into a basket near it and drawing out two pieces of paper. She holds one out to him, "You're supposed to write a wish down, and try to throw a little paper crane into its mouth."

"I want to try! But..." He takes the paper from her hand looks at it intently. He sighs, "I - I can't write. And, and I don't know..."

"Well... here. I'll help you fold the bird," She says, leading him over to the ledge of the statue. He sits down beside her and rests his elbows on his knees, paper held out in front of him. "And you just think your wish as hard as you can. I'm sure Leviathan'll still get it."

"You think so?" He turns to her, and she nods.

"Trust me, she'll make an exception for you. Now, I'll take it slow," Aranea leans towards him so he can clearly see her hands. She makes the first crease, and he observes for a moment before copying her. "You just follow along."

N - 1P01357 slowly, meticulously copies her folds, glancing between her hands and his. His fingers work slowly, clumsily; another unavoidable defect. Instead of correcting him, however, Aranea slows to match his pace. His bird begins to take shape alongside hers, and he finds that learning is much easier like this, without the usual corrections. For once his defects do not impede him.

When they're finished, N - 1P01357's crane ends up much more crisp and neat than Aranea's. She looks his over as she stands.

"Looks good. Sure you haven't done this before?" A laugh rises out of him before he can stop it, weak and breathy, shaking his shoulders and rumbling in his chest. He takes her hand and helps himself up. "Better be a good shot, too."

N - 1P01357 stares at the paper in his hands and for a moment he thinks about crushing it, about ruining the folds and wasting the time he's spent and turning it into nothing more than a crumpled scrap. He shouldn't be here. He doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve anything. He wonders if he'll ever think anything else, or if the thought will keep haunting him. He wonders if he'll ever believe that he really hasn't done anything wrong.

He wishes he'll be able to work everything out, eventually. He throws his crane and it lands neatly in the statue's gaping mouth.

Aranea follows suit, but hers is just a little off the mark, glancing off its horn and falling into the fountain below. It bobs along the water's surface, the thick paper staying afloat as it drifts around the edge and slowly out of sight. He watches it go.

"What did you wish for?" N - 1P01357 asks.

"Can't say," Aranea says with a smile, foldings her arms across her chest. "If you tell your wish to someone, it won't come true."

"Oh." He looks past her and into the sky for a moment, watching a light twinkle over a smooth white railing. "I hope your wish comes true."

She sighs. She does that a lot.

"Me too, kid."


	5. Interlude

They wander Altissia for the rest of the night, through lamp - lit alleyways and long stone paths by the water. Aranea names everything he mentions, answers every question he asks. He learns so much and begins to slowly put words to things and meanings, and it makes the whole city feel completely new each time. Things finally begin to fully take shape in his mind.

"It's getting pretty late," Aranea says as they mill about an stand selling sweets, N - 1P01357 steadily chewing his way through a small vanilla - ulwaat cake. "We'll need to leave soon if you're gonna reach Caem before sunrise."

He remembers why they're really here and deflates a little, delicately folding up his wrapper and tucking it into his pocket. The wind blows into his hood and nearly takes it off his head. He pulls the strings on either side of his jacket tight, securing it.

"Understood," He tries his best to contain the sad little sound trying to take root in his voice as he dusts the crumbs off his hand on his pant leg. "Will there be another boat?"

"Yep. Couple friends of mine offered to help," Aranea peels herself from the railing and stretches, rolling her shoulders. "They're waiting for us down at the port."

"What's their boat like?" He asks as he follows her down yet another marble staircase. Aranea waves down a nearby gondola and reaches into her bag to pay the fare. "Probably bigger than Litus', right?"

"Yeah, a lot bigger. Lot quieter, too." She replies, watching as N - 1P01357 settles into the seat across from her. He's getting better with practice, and doesn't need her help into the boat anymore. "You'll know it when you see it."

As the gondola slowly rounds a corner, N - 1P01357 understand what she means; he immediately notices the large, black ship docked at the port. When the gondola comes to a stop he's the first to step off, staring at the biggest boat he's seen today. Aranea gently pats his shoulder as she walks up beside him.

"Stick behind me." He complies.

N - 1P01357 doesn't really focus on what Aranea's saying. He stares at his boots and her voice hums in and out of his ears, an ambient rumble. He tries to think of what he'll need to do next. He tries and tries but for how good he is at thinking, he can't imagine what comes after Aranea leaves him at Caem.

N - 1P01357 bites his lip to stop the strangled little noise climbing up his throat. He balls his fists and digs his fingers into his palms to stop his hands from clutching his chest.

"Hey, Prompto," He sharply comes back to attention, jerking his head up. Aranea takes him by the hand. "C'mon. We can go."

The boat bobs in the water as N - 1P01357 steps aboard, immediately greeted by the sight of two human units - one in white at the controls, and one in black standing beside him. The unit in white, likely of higher ranking, turns from the boat's console to face them. Aranea's shoes click on the deck behind him.

"This's the fellow?" He asks, standing. The one in black continues to look on.

"Biggs, Wedge, this is Prompto." She gestures towards him and then to the two other units. "Prompto, Biggs and Wedge."

"Nice meetin' you," Wedge, in black, says, voice low and quiet. N - 1P01357 nods, knitting his hands together.

"Yeah. It's a pleasure, kid." Biggs smiles wide and adjusts his hat, fixing his hair before setting it back in place. "We shoving off, Lady A?"

Aranea turns to face N - 1P01357. "You ready? Probably won't be back here for a while."

He tugs at the bottom of his shirt, twisting it in his hands, trying to contain himself. He wants to stay but he needs to go, and he knows which one is more important. No matter how much he thinks, he knows. There's no way around it, not in his head or anywhere else.

"I'm ready," He says, neglecting the fact that his hands curl even tighter, upsetting more yellow fabric. "Let's go."

"No worries, kid!" Biggs slips into the chair at the console and toes the deck to spin it, facing the front of the boat. "We'll be there before you know it. Just sit back an' relax."

When the engine rumbles to life this time he expects it, heading over to the railing to keep his balance. The sea churns around them, foam spraying up the sides, reaching for the deck. Waves crash both near and far. The light of the moon reflects off the water, the dark bodies of fish close to the surface barely visible. N - 1P01357 watches the sky and the clouds roll by and doesn't think of anything in particular.

He's shaken from his not - thoughts when the ocean suddenly, violently parts, tearing wide open. A huge creature surges up from the depths, one long horn on its head. It turns over itself and slams back into the sea, tail lagging behind with a delayed slap.

"Just your luck, Prompto!" Biggs calls from the wheel, slowing a little, "Seems even Bismarck's come to see you off!"

Bismarck resurfaces and blows a puff of air, water raining over the boat as it rises once more. It leaps again, going into another half - spin. N - 1P01357 watches it in awe. He leans over the railing and feels the wind and spray on his face, whipping his hood off his head as the massive beast makes another pass above the water.

Bismarck lets out a long, cheerful wail as it disappears below the waves, the sea calming once more.

There's so much. N - 1P01357 is suddenly overwhelmed with such a powerful feeling; that's there's all this and so much more, and even though there's already been so, so much, he hasn't even seen it all yet. The boat rocks forward on the water and he feels something new bubbling up inside him, making his chest light. He takes a deep breath and watches the foam gather and spread on the waves, a thin white web over the water.

"We're here." Aranea pats him on the back as the boat comes to a stop. N - 1P01357 looks out into the dark and sees everything clearly.

Caem is green and brown, jagged near the bottom but smooth near the top. He steps out onto the rocks and the waves crash against them, rising over his boots. It's warmer than Altissia, he realizes as he cranes his head back. The air is cool against the back of his head, his neck still hidden by his scarf.

"I -" He turns to Aranea and can't place the look on her face. Clutching his hands together, he continues, "Will I see you again?"

"I can't..." She starts. She takes a deep breath and shakes her head, mouth smiling but her eyes sad. "You will. I don't know when or where, but we'll see each other again."

"Right." He breathes out, a little shaky. Aranea lingers. "Um. Goodbye."

"Yeah." She hesitates at the railing. "See you later, Prompto."

The boat rumbles to life. Biggs slowly pulls it away from the shore, upsetting the already violent water. Wedge gives him a calm smile and a wave beside him. Aranea watches from the railing without moving a muscle, staring at him with a blank face.

"Bye," He repeats, watching as the ship passes over the horizon and disappears. "Bye, Aranea."

N - 1P01357 looks back to the sharp crag of Cape Caem and starts to walk up the steep cliff path.

"Be not afraid." A voice he's never heard calls out, in his head and all around him, filling his ears and swallowing the sound of the world around him. He turns and sees a unit with long black hair standing behind him. "I mean you no harm, child of darkness."

"H - huh? Where did -" His hand wanders towards his knife, fingers ghosting along the hilt. "How..?"

"I am Gentiana, a Messenger of the Six." She says. N - 1P01357 realizes that her eyes are closed. "You must be made aware of your calling. You have a new purpose to fufill."

"What?" He's so tired. He's defective and not fit for any objectice or mission, and he doesn't want to serve the empire or these Six or whoever. He doesn't want to do it all again, to not be good enough, to suffer the consequences of trying. He just wants to be.

Gentiana seems to ignore him.

"The time is come - for the child without a name, born in shadow, shall seek out the King of Light," She deadpans, voice completely monotone. The air around her is cold as the snow he'd felt days ago. "And walk beside him into the Dawn. Such is the child's fate, bestowed upon him by the gods."

"Gods? I - I don't..." His grip on the knife falters, his hand dropping to his side. "I don't understand."

"The child will come to know, in time." She folds her hands in front of her. "It is not my task to impart the true meaning of the gods' words. I am simply to deliver them, and I have."

"But -!" 

When N - 1P01357 blinks, Gentiana is gone.

The sun is slowly coming up over the sea, painting the sky a deep red. He needs to get moving. He pulls his hood over his head and the scarf over his nose, continuing up the path worn into the earth. He needs to keep moving.

He will understand. Someday, he will; he has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this should be the last chapter that takes place before the canon of the game. the ball'll finally get rolling next chapter - prompto will finally get to meet to boys! thanks for reading so far. i hope you enjoy the rest :]


	6. These Are The Nights

"Noct," Ignis says, turning his head towards him without taking his eyes off the road, "Would you review the bounty once more?"

"Why, you forget?" Ignis moves his head further, and Noctis knows that if he could safely look all the way behind him, he'd have the look on his face that screams _because I said so_. He sighs and pulls out his phone, "Hunters saw a daemon up near the Wennath that they think might be a new breed."

"If I recall correctly, sightings consist of widely varied descriptions, save for one consistent feature."

"All of 'em say the thing's got two glowing red eyes." Gladio adds, leaning back and twisting in his seat. He puts his arm over the seat back, "Should be easy to find."

"Probably won't be easy to kill." Noctis huffs, putting his phone away.

"The hunters wouldn't have put out a contract otherwise. We should be grateful for the opportunity - and the gil," Ignis pulls over to the side of the road. Noctis practically throws himself out of the car, eager for the fishing; he'd read all about it before they were even halfway there. Ignis calls from the door, "Don't stray too far from camp!"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about me, Mom." Noctis waves him off and makes a beeline for the pier, fishing rod already in hand. The sun dips low into the late afternoon sky, orange rising up on the horizon. A warm breeze blows over the river and tousles his hair, filling his jacket.

The sun falls lower and lower and the moon rises. The light of the haven becomes stronger as the minutes bleed into hours, their mark's haunting grounds only yards away. Noctis, his boots long discarded, hangs his feet off the dock and into the cold water. His rod pulls its weight and then some as he reels in catch after catch.

Something rustles in the brush further downstream. When he looks over, he swears he sees two bright red eyes staring at him from the bushes.

"How's the fishing, Noct?" Ignis' voice calls. When Noctis looks back to the trees the eyes are gone.

"Seafood on the menu tonight," He hums as he stands and tosses his most recent catch towards his advisor. He watches Ignis struggle to hold the slippery argus as he pulls his shoes back on, surveying the assortment of fish along dock, "Salmon any good?"

"If you're for a flakier meat, then yes," Ignis seems conflicted on whether to keep his shirt mostly clean and retire the fish to the water or forgo tidiness completely; he begrudgingly chooses the latter. It flops helplessly against his chest, nearly escaping before he holds it tighter. "But it seems we'll be having trout for the next week, if not longer. Perhaps it would be better to save the salmon for a more... notable occasion?"

"Nah, it's cool," Noctis sends his rod back to the Armiger and bends down to grab an armful of the fruits of his labors. His smile widens as he sees Ignis' questioning gaze, "I'll take fish over toast any day, no matter what kind it is."

Gladio's finishing up setting camp as they climb up the slope towards the haven.

"Need any help?"

"None with carrying them," Ignis sighs as he sets his fish down next to the grill, glad to be free of the burden. "But you could help put them away while I get started on dinner."

"Just how do these things keep so long when they're in His Highness' magic pockets, anyway?" Gladio takes the biggest from Noctis' haphazardly discarded pile and sends it to the Armiger. Noctis saves a fish from falling off the rocks and banishes it from reality all the same.

"Hey, don't ask me." Noctis shrugs as he reaches for another, scales rubbing against his palm. "I try not to think too much about stuff like that."

"Perhaps time flows differently within the Armiger," Ignis supplies, holding the argus at knifepoint, quickly setting to tearing the salmon apart with a practiced, clinical efficiency. "Yet another mystery of the Crystal."

"One we don't have time to solve," Gladio huffs, having already halved the number of fish. Noctis moves slow on purpose, leaving most the work to him. "Won't be long 'til this daemon pops up."

"Then we'll begin searching right after supper."

Dinner is suprisingly short but still casual. For once Ignis gives them permission to leave the dishes for later - if only so as not to miss their mark, he insists - and Noctis thinks that might be a greater reward than the bounty itself. He and Gladio divide the woods into two sections to search, while Ignis takes the road, lance in hand.

"Noct, get over here!" Gladio calls. Noctis darts through the trees in a blue trail, sword drawn, ready for trouble. He finds Gladio crouched down in the dirt, weapons gone. His words are soft, not directed at the prince this time, "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm here, what's -"

There's a man lying huddled up in the dirt in front of Gladio, arms pulled up to cover his face. His clothes are torn, caked with mud and dried blood, and his tangled blonde hair reaches past his shoulders. Gladio holds a hand out towards him and he yelps, pulling back further. The Shield withdraws, palms out in surrender.

"It's okay, m'not gonna hurt you," He says, in that rare gentle voice Noctis has only heard following the nightmares of his youth. "Just wanna see if you're alright."

"You -" The blonde man starts, raspy and hoarse. He chokes on his own words, still shielding his face, knees brought up to his chest. His breathing spikes, shaky, "You're... you're not gonna hurt me?"

"Just wanna help." Gladio slowly lowers his hands. Noctis watches this exchange with just a hint of awe, but a protector needs to be strong in more ways than one. He continues, softly, "You mind putting your arms down for me?"

"I don't... okay. Okay," He whispers. He slowly lowers his hands and reveals a pale, sickly face, with one jarring error in human design: his glowing red eyes, with all black pupils.

The bridge of the man's nose is mangled by a deep cut that can't be more than a week old, stretching from his right nostril all the way to the top of his left eyelid. It's swollen red, infected, keeping his left eye more closed than the other. He stares at Gladio like a deer in headlights, terror clear on his face, biting his bottom lip even though it's shaking.

"I saw you earlier." Noctis says, and the man's attention jumps from the Shield to the prince. He pulls his arms close against his sides as if to stop them from flying back up to his face. "You were down by the dock, weren't you?"

The man hesitantly nods, nervously swallowing.

"Need to get that wound cleaned," Gladio says, gesturing towards the general direction of his face. He points back towards the haven, "We've got a camp set up just down the river. Mind if we take you there?"

The blonde man stares at them for a long time without saying a word, chest rising and falling with scared, labored breathing. Emotions flash across his face in incomplete expressions, moving from one to the next almost without pause. His eyes move between the two of them like a cornered animal's.

"Gladio! Noct!" Ignis shouts before he can come up with answer. Noctis has his sword back in his hand in an instant, waiting for his Shield to follow.

"Stay put, don't move unless you're in danger," Gladio says as he gets back to his feet, hands outstretched as if to ward the man away, "We'll come back for you."

As the road comes into view, the problem becomes easily visible. As a hobgoblin's wild swing glances off of one of Ignis' daggers an iron giant tears its way out of hell, letting out an ungodly moan as its gargantuan fist rises from the pavement. Noctis warps to the closest one and sends it careening down the street with a wide greatsword swing.

"Find anything on your end?" Ignis backsteps towards Noctis, still focused on the creatures slowly circling them. Gladio charges ahead and slashes at the giant's ankle, ducking behind his shield.

"We found some _one_. We should -" Pain spears its way from the back of his eyes and deep into his brain, knocking the wind out of him. Noctis drops to his knee as the visions kick in once more, an orange blazing deep through his skull. He can barely keep himself conscious as Titan's voice echoes in his head, deafening.

"Noct!" He hears the clash of metal over the rumble of the god's words. Ignis grunts, his feet scraping against the pavement as he shifts his weight, "Gladio, we need cover!"

"Little busy!" Noct can barely see the iron giant reel back, massive sword raised high, dull metal glinting in the light of the street lamps. His cheek presses against the pavement as his knees give out beneath him. His face is warm, getting hotter - the ground is unforgivingly cold.

A single gunshot rings out clearly, cutting through the storm behind his eyes.

He sees muddy boots on the asphalt, taking slow, deliberate steps. Another shot sounds off, then another. Shell casings clatter to the ground just in front of Noctis' nose. The iron giant groans.

"Thought I told you to stay put?" Gladio says, more joking and out of breath than actually upset. He grunts, and Noctis hears his sword slam into the road.

"Seemed like you needed the help," The blonde man's voice is just above him, still hesitant, struggling to stay level. Noctis turns his head and sees him standing over him, gun trained on a hobgoblin. "Do you... not want me to help?"

"While you're welcome to withdraw," Ignis lunges towards the blonde's target and sticks it through the chest with his lance, forcing it to the ground. "Your assistance would certainly turn the tide."

"R - right." Noctis cranes his neck as far as he can and follows the blonde man's feet until he disappears from view. The piercing in his head is slowly dwindling down to pounding. Feeling begins to come back into his legs, and he pulls himself up onto his knees.

The daemon lets out a long moan, like a rusty door slowly swinging shut. A cold wind blows over the street as the giant disintegrates and sinks back to the earth, turning to dust. The blonde man makes a low noise in the back of his throat as Ignis helps Noctis to his feet.

"Are you alright?" Ignis keeps an arm linked around his, supporting him against his shoulder. Noctis slumps into him as his legs fully recover. "Another headache?"

"...I'm fine," He presses a hand to his temple and feels the pain receding as quickly as it arrived. "It's gone, now."

"And who's this?" Ignis turns his attention to the blonde man, still holding Noctis against him. Noctis turns his head to see the man stop in his tracks, standing near edge of the road.

"Found him out in the woods," Gladio says, putting his sword away. "Got a pretty bad cut on his face that needs cleaned up."

Noctis watches Ignis give the stranger a quick once over before the realization dawns on him - this is their "target". He looks towards Noctis for some sort of answer; the prince just shrugs.

"It's the least we can do," He starts, slowly, carefully. Noctis removes himself from his advisor's grip, now steady enough to stand on his own. Ignis pushes up his glasses and continues, "I've a first aid kit back at our camp, if you'll allow me."

"I, um. I'm not sure if..." He looks down at his hands, idly tangling his fingers. The man looks towards Gladio and asks, again, "You're not going to hurt me?"

"The antiseptic might sting a little, but we've no reason to harm you." Ignis folds his arms, shifting his weight to one side. The blonde stares at him incredulously. "Though it's up to you whether you come or not."

"Um. Thanks." He finally says, hands still loosely clasped in front of him. As he walks closer, Noctis realizes he's even taller than Gladio. Unnaturally so. "I'm... I'm Prompto."

"Ignis. It's a pleasure." He sighs, smiling a little. "The fellow over there is Gladio, and this is -"

"Noctis." Noctis puts his hand out and watches as Prompto stares at him for a long while. He hesitantly puts his hand in his and shakes it. "You can call me Noct."

"...Hi, Noct, Gladio. Ignis," His scared expression slowly breaks into a smile, twisting bloody tissue and scrunching his eye even further shut. He takes his hand back with a reverent slowness, "Nice to meet you."

"Same here." Noctis gives a genuine smile back; Prompto is suprisingly unguarded, his every emotion earnest and easily visible.

"Now that introductions are out of the way," Ignis begins making his way towards camp, and Gladio follows suit. Noctis and Prompto bring up the rear of the group not too far behind. "Let's see if we can't get you fixed up, Prompto."

At camp Prompto winces as Ignis thoroughly cleans the gash across his nose, scrutinizing the wound. He crumples up the alcohol pad and tucks it into his pocket before reaching for another, tearing open the package with his teeth. Prompto braces against the arms of a folding chair as Ignis returns to disinfecting.

"How'd you get hurt like this?" Ignis says, crinkling his nose to keep his glasses from falling, hands otherwise occupied. "It's awfully deep."

"There was this - this man," He manages between biting his cheek, voice very quiet and very serious. "He said he was going to take my eyes out. I moved, and he missed."

"How long ago was this?" To a stranger, Ignis might seem incredibly controlled given the situation; but Noctis hears the anger creeping into his voice and sees his face slowly contorting with rage. 

"A few days," Prompto whispers. Ignis finishes cleaning and reaches for the gauze. "He... he didn't try again."

"It seems people are no kinder outside City walls," Ignis mutters, gently covering the wound. He pulls his hands away and stands from his knees. "I'd like to wait until it's certain any infection has receded. We'll see how it looks tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Prompto asks, finally letting go of the seat.

"Yes. It'd be safest for you to stay here until morning." Ignis says, packing away the first aid supplies. He fixes his sleeves, adjusting the cuffs as he rolls them back down. "Once the daemons are no longer a threat, I'll be content with letting you off on your own, if you wish."

"Other than that, aren't you beat?" Noctis asks from beside what embers remain of the fire, idly poking at them with a stick. He yawns, "I know I am."

"Aren't you always?" Gladio ruffles his hair as he walks past. Noctis swats his hand away with a huff. "Iggy's right, though. Too dangerous to be traveling at night these days."

"And you'll need the rest, with your wound." Ignis sends the first aid kit to the Armiger; Noctis makes a mental note to put it in the trunk tomorrow morning, just in case. "There's enough room in the tent for four. I insist."

"Right." Prompto sighs, smiling again, softer this time. His voice picks up a little, more cheerful than before, "Well, if you insist."

As he crawls into the tent Noctis can't help but wonder about the man who's joined him, trying to piece together reasons for his eyes, his height, his everything. He tries to stay awake and fails - his thoughts relentlessly follow him into his dreams.


	7. Vanilla

N - 1P01357 opens his eyes to a nearly empty tent, the light of the sun streaming through fabric walls. He turns onto his side and sees Noct sleeping opposite him, expressionless and silent, chest slowly rising and falling. N - 1P01357 is beginning to warm in the morning glow, getting hotter by the second. He considers taking his jacket off and remembers his implant markings; he pulls it tighter around himself instead.

The sun is still a threat, and one he can't avoid, now. When they see him burning they'll turn him back to the Empire, or they'll leave him to die or they'll kill him themselves. Yet there's no escape. There's no way for him to get out of this. He takes a deep breath, then another, trying to keep his thoughts steady. He can't stop thinking now.

N - 1P01357 edges closer and closer to the half open flap, closer and closer to the sun streaming in. A thick triangle of almost white light covers the floor of the tent. He reaches out, arm shaking, eyes shut tight, and sets his hand into it. The sun warms him to his bones.

He doesn't burn.

N - 1P01357 slowly opens his eyes. His hand is still intact, not smoking, not burning. He crawls out of the tent and sees the sun risen over the horizon, inching farther and farther into the air, painting the entire sky red and blue and orange. His eyes have trouble adjusting completely as he stands, shielding his face with his hand.

"Hey, you're up." Gladio says, approaching the tent. His shirt is slung over his shoulder, his chest bare and free of any implants. "Sleep well?"

"Ye - yeah, thanks." He's not sure what he expected. N - 1P01357 looks up towards the sky, squinting in the early sun, hand still casting shadow over his eyes. A breeze blows cool off the river and makes the heat a little more bearable.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Gladio pulls on his shirt, motioning for N - 1P01357 to move aside. He complies, and goes further towards the opposite end of the haven. "M'gonna wake up His Highness."

"Ah, Prompto. Good morning." Ignis, standing at the very edge of the stones, tucks a notebook into his breast pocket as he meets N - 1P01357 halfway across their camp. He inspects him for a moment then nods, humming with approval, "It does seem the swelling's gone down. Was your vision affected by it any?"

"No, uh - it was fine before," He picks at the tape holding the bandage in place; the cut stings just a little with the pressure. "I do feel better, though. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it. Here," Ignis puts out his hand and in a flash of white - blue light, a metal bottle appears in his hand. Bright green liquid churns inside it, filled almost the rim. He holds it out towards N - 1P01357, smiling softly, "You're free to drink or just break the bottle; your wound will heal either way."

N - 1P01357 takes the bottle from him hesitantly, afraid it'll shatter at his touch. He unscrews the cap slowly and waits a long moment before bringing it to his lips, tilting it up.

The liquid is cold, but it burns as it runs down his throat. He feels the hot - cold sensation shoot through his veins, concentrating in every injury, both old and new. It hurts, hurts the same way his injections did, the pain seared into his mind. The magic, lighter than he's ever felt it, soaks deep into him, freezing him to his core. In the next instant, the ice - cold pain is gone, replaced by sudden relief.

N - 1P01357 peels the bandage off and feels scar tissue, warm to the touch, across the bridge of his nose.

"That - that's..." He traces the new scar all the way above his eye, feeling the remnants of the magic once flowing through him. "That's amazing. How did..?"

"Ah, afraid that's a trade secret." Ignis hums, now headed towards the tent. N - 1P01357 follows close beside him, energy still tingling in his fingertips. "Noct will be the one to decide what we can and can't discuss."

"So, he's your leader?" N - 1P01357 puts on the cheerful lilt he's heard from restaurant waiters, awake early in the morning before the sun comes up, and smiling shopkeeps working late into the night. "You're a team of hunters, right?"

"Something of the sort."

"Nothing that formal, though," Noct has finally crawled out of the tent and is busy mussing his hair into something presentable. Gladio follows not far behind, shaking his head with a smile. Noct yawns, "We pick up odd jobs here n' there, but we're mostly just driving around."

"That actually sounds kinda nice." N - 1P01357 throws his arms behind his head, folding his hands so he doesn't have to feel the cable in his neck. "So, you guys are on a roadtrip?"

"Once again, something very similar." Ignis says as he nods towards Gladio, who moves to start uprooting the tent. Noct hovers in the middle of the haven still half asleep. "It's about time we packed up. Noct, some help, if you would?"

"Mmh - hm." He mumbles, rubbing his eyes. He slowly huffles his way over to the chairs, boots skidding on the stone as he drags his feet.

"Is there anything I should be doing?" N - 1P01357 straightens up, no longer relaxed. His hands come up in front of his chest, folding together; they've got some order for him, no doubt. Humans like to be repaid for even the smallest acts, even if only in the smallest ways.

"No, it's alright." Ignis gently waves him off, closing up his workstation opposite from the tent. "We'll be finished in just a moment."

He watches them sending things away in the same blue - white light that can bring them into existence, feeling the magic spread thin through the air. His hair stands on end, on his arms and the back of his neck around the cable. None of them seem to react to it. He decides that his own reaction is probably something he shouldn't share, like his ports or his implants or his origins or the cable. He adds it to the long list of his traits that could likely turn any humans against him.

What strikes him next is how they've asked nothing of him. Not one favor, not one gil, nothing. He stands there and tries to understand why they haven't. It doesn't make any sense. It doesn't follow the patterns he's observed in the few, few humans he's interacted with - and despite their diverse appearances they should all function similarly.

Yet Aranea had never asked of anything.  
Aranea was so kind and she'd helped so much, and she'd never asked for anything in return. N - 1P01357 misses her. He thinks about going back up to Caem sometime. Maybe she'll be there again, even if she hasn't been there for the last five years.

Humans have too many outliers, he decides. Approach with caution and prepare for the worst.

"So, um." He starts. All of them turn their attention towards him, finished clearing the haven. N - 1P01357 swallows, throat swollen, "Is this where we go our seperate ways?"

"Why, you got somewhere you need to be?" Gladio is the first to respond.

Ignis quickly follows suit, "We'd be glad to take you with us, at least to Lestallum, if you've nowhere else to go."

"And if you don't mind a detour." Noct tacks on to the end. He ruffles his hair, which is still sticking up in every direction. After a moment, he adds, "There might be some stuff to kill on the way."

"No, I - I don't mind. I'm," N - 1P01357 takes a long, deep breath to steady himself; he feels like if he talks too fast he's going to be sick. "I wanna help. I wanna pay you back. I don't mind."

"Don't mind you coming along," Noct says, fixing him with a look he doesn't quite understand. The shorter unit rests a hand on N - 1P01357's arm, not noticing how he winces. "But don't think about paying us back. It's fine."

"O - okay. Right." He wonders if Noct can feel that his skin isn't flesh, that his muscle is wire and his bones are metal. N - 1P01357 grabs his wrist, thumbing over the barcode beneath his jacket sleeve. He struggles to keep his smile intact, "You got it."

"Good." Noct pats him one last time before he takes his hand away, and N - 1P01357 forces himself not to let out the breath he's been holding all at once. "Don't want you thinking you owe us anything."

"Yeah," Gladio gives him a smile, though not as gentle as the one he'd had last night, "And out here, you gotta take all the freebies you can get." 

"Guess... guess I'll take it, then." The pounding in his chest starts to steady and level off. His own smile becomes a little less pretend. "I'm ready to ship out whenever."

"Then let's not dawdle." Ignis fixes his glove at the strap and pushes up his glasses, eyeing Noct as he heads towards the edge of the haven that slopes back to the grass. "Gods know how long this "detour" of ours will take, and I'd like to be back at Lestallum before nightfall."

"Maayyybe, if it's nighttime when we get there," Noct follows not far behind, a spring beginning to creep into his step. He leans forward a little, arms folded behind his back, "We can spring for a room at the Leville?"

Ignis sighs and shakes his head, but his voice and his face contradict any upset, both filled with subdued lightheartedness, "If there's room in the budget, then maybe."

"Don't get used to it." Gladio wraps an arm around Noct's neck and rubs his knuckles against his head, messing up his already messy mop of black hair. "Next day, we'll be back in the outdoors."

N - 1P01357 follows them down the rocks and towards the road; he can see their car from here, slick black and smooth design. He jogs to keep pace, trying not to linger too far behind while not getting too close. His curiousity gets the better of him, and he hurries to stand beside Gladio.

"What's the Leville like?" He asks, "I've never been to Lestallum."

"It's only one of the best hotels on the entire continent," Noct boasts, as if proud of the achievement he had no part in. He continues, "Feels great to get out of the heat. All the beds are doubles and the sheets are really nice."

"Seeing as you love to sleep," Gladio nudges him in the side, breaking him out of his rant. "It's no wonder you're obsessed with the room quality."

"That does sound pretty sweet, though." N - 1P01357 pushes ahead and files beside Noct as they go up the stairs, forced to walk two by two. Noct gives him a small smile, which makes his face go oddly warm. "I already wanna sleep there, and I haven't even seen it yet."

"Right? Imagine how I feel, having been there before." He sighs, rubbing his face again. Just the talk of sleep seems to be making him tired. "I'd kill for a real bed every night."

"Gotta kill just for one night in a hotel, don't you?" N - 1P01357 stands beside the car. He watches Noct lean against the passenger side door and decides to take the back, hovering beside it. The metal could probably burn him in this heat.

"You mean hunts, right?" N - 1P01357 nods, tucking his hands in his pockets. Noct runs a hand through his hair. "They pay alright, I guess, but we still have a bunch of other shit to pay for."

"Yes, I'm afraid our... lifestyle," Ignis adds as he unlocks the car and takes to the front seat. N - 1P01357 slides across the backseat to sit behind Noct, leaning far forward. The leather is warm on his legs. "Leaves very little for unnecessary expenses."

"Keeps Noct from spending like crazy, at least." Gladio takes the seat next to him and leans back against the frame of the car, resting an arm along the door. "Better than Ignis ever could."

"I'm not that bad." Noct says as he twists around in his seat, pouting a little bit.

"So says the accused," There's a hint of a smile in Ignis' voice, just barely there. N - 1P01357 fidgets in his seat and feels out of place, sitting right there but not really involved. "But our wallet too often says otherwise."

"C'mon, you're embarrassing me," He hisses, turning away from the back of the car.

"I'm afraid most times you do that without any help." Ignis says matter of factly, and Gladio snorts as he grabs a book from one of the compartments on the door. N - 1P01357 looks out at the passing scenery. "And when you do need the extra nudge, you make it far too easy."

"Gladio," Noct whines, leaning his head back over the seat. His bangs fall out of his eyes. "I thought you were supposed to protect me."

"From actual threats, sure." He replies with a smile, not looking away from his book. He takes a long breath that comes out a sigh, "Far as I'm concerned, Ignis can have his way with you."

Noct grumbles. He scrubs his face with his hands before he turns back around and asks, "So, Prompto. Why were you out by the river, anyway?"

"It was that, uh... that hunter." He picks at his scar, the memory of the magic coursing through him still fresh in his mind. The wind blows his hair out of his eyes. "I was scared he'd come find me. Try to finish what he started."

"And the woods seemed safer than anywhere a hunter could easily get to." Gladio supplies. N - 1P01357 nods, willing his hand away from his face and onto the seat. "I get you."

"So you were hurt, hiding out in the woods for a couple days," Noct says slowly, sounding worried as he puts the pieces together. N - 1P01357's fingers curl into fists against the leather. "And someone mistook you for a daemon and passed the rumor around 'til it got back to the hunters."

"It must have been a terrifying experience," Ignis begins, "To be hunted by your own."

Hunted by _your_ own, N - 1P01357 thinks wistfully. His mood sours further as he keeps thinking. The hunters are their kind, not his, and he needs to be more careful with them going forward.

"Just hope it doesn't happen again." N - 1P01357 mumbles, idly tracing the seam of the leather with his thumb.

"We'll clear things up with the head hunter," Noct says, and softens. "He can probably make sure it doesn't happen again."

"You'd really..." He looks up. "You'd do that?"

"Sure." Noct shrugs, as if this shouldn't mean the world to N - 1P01357. As if it isn't a matter of life and death. "He owes us a favor or two anyway."

"That -" He looks back at his boots and kicks them against the floor mat, pushing around the fabric. His voice comes out smaller than a whisper, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

N - 1P01357 plays with his hands in his lap, not paying attention to any idle conversation between the other three. They're going to want something from him, they have to. Aranea was the one exception, a breakaway from normal human operation. Soon these three will follow normal procedure.

"We've arrived." N - 1P01357 lifts his head and sees very little actually around them. A lone, empty gas station sits across the road from the parking area, the dim lights within the only sign of life. The sun is in the middle of the sky; resting at just the right angle for it to be just a little too hot.

N - 1P01357 gingerly removes himself from the car and mills around near the side of the road, observing. Noct heads towards a set of stairs leading down to the river below, and Ignis and Gladio follow him without question. N - 1P01357 hesitantly decides to do the same.

"Hold up." They all stop at the sound of Noct's voice. He turns back, crouching low to the ground, and points down near the riverbed. "There's a, um. A big snake, just up ahead."

"A... snake?" N - 1P01357 looks further down the hill and sees a writhing, black mass, like nothing he's ever seen before. It winds around the edge of the water in a single fluid motion, even without arms or legs to carry it.

"Let's take cover, for now." Ignis, now taking the lead, quietly slips into the bushes and behind a rock. The rest of them follow suit, N - 1P01357 at the back of their group. Ignis straightens just enough to see over the stone and kneels back down. "It's a midgardsormr. It shoots venom to incapacitate its prey before moving in to swallowing it whole."

N - 1P01357 pulls his pistol from its holster and pulls back the safety with his thumb, holding the grip so tight it might splinter just to keep his hands from shaking. The snake is huge, bigger than any animal or daemon or hunter. He wonders if he has enough bullets. If he runs out again he'll have to rely on his knife, and last time he did -

"Not big on snakes." Noct says, face all scrunched up as he looks from N - 1P01357 to the snake. "I say we just go around."

"Sounds good to me." Gladio rolls his shoulder nonchalantly. N - 1P01357 loosens his grip on his gun. "Shouldn't bother us if we don't get too close, right?"

Ignis nods and begins to toe his way out from behind the rock. "Stay close, Prompto."

"U - understood." N - 1P01357 shakily slips the pistol back against his chest and follows not far behind him, breath hitching in his throat.

They move past it unbelievably slow. Ignis takes the lead and makes a path through the brush, silent as a shadow. N - 1P01357's every step feels too loud, the grass unsettling beneath his boots, stray leaves and sticks crunching under his weight. He winces as the snake turns towards them, slithering closer. Ignis motions behind him; N - 1P01357 barely stops before he can walk right into Gladio.

The snake, miraculously, keeps to its part of the riverbank. Ignis begins to stand from his crouch, and the rest of them follow suit. N - 1P01357 waits until he sees Noct relax before letting out a long sigh. Ignis dusts himself off and straightens his glasses once more. Somehow, no one hears how hard N - 1P01357's core is hammering in his chest, making his chest shake and his breathing unsteady. He can barely hear himself think.

"We all alive?" Gladio asks as he looks them over. After a moment he nods, satisfied, "Alright. Everyone good to go?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Noct sighs, hands on his hips. "How 'bout you, Prompto?"

"Never been better." N - 1P01357 swallows down a wave of nausea and hopes his fear will subside with it, putting on a smile. "You just lead the way."


End file.
